Tag Archives: Make Work

June 16th: Happy National Fudge Day (USA)

After discovering it was International Fresh Veggies Day I remembered that the United States of America has many unique holidays and observances. I did a quick search for USA Observances and discovered that while the rest of the world celebrates Fresh Veggies today (along with Fathers Day) in the USA it is National Fudge Day.

I think I have nothing more to say – really you can draw your own conclusions on that one!

Veggies or Fudge? Which one to choose?

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June 16th: Happy International Fresh Veggies Day

So you know how the internet is just made for random browsing of clicking from this that and the other thing? I know you don’t do that – ever. However, in my boredom this morning I did just that and guess what today is not just Fathers Day!

NO – it is more than that. It is International Fresh Veggies Day. A day to honour fresh food from the garden. It is spring here in the Northern Hemisphere of the world – and autumn down in the lands of the south. So all farming parts of the world are enjoying the bounty of Mother Earth while celebrating Fathers Day. It is like a mom and pop event today – so nice.

So all you kids in honour of your Dad – today be nice and eat your vegetables! It is good for you. Really it is. I’m a Dad and I just said so is why…

How are you celebrating today?

Candle

April rains chill me
cold deep into my darkness
warmed by your flicker.

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “CANDLE” at

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Butterfly

you’re hidden away
inside your dull chrysalis
waiting to burst free

and flutter away
leaving me ordinary
beneath your freedom.

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “BUTTERFLY”” at

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Ascent

uplifted
soaring into clouds
feet on ground

Inspired by the  APRIL A2Z CHALLENGE word prompt “ASCENT” at

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No Inspiration

Waking Haiku

spring knocks on the glass
gently she swirls past my door
luring me outside.

Black Saturday

yesterday was death -
tomorrow resurrection.
So what is today?

Forgotten

It tickles my brain
demanding I remember
then dances away.

Inspired by the  word prompt “no prompt today” at

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Fortitude

having nothing left
makes her irresistible
and unbearable.

Inspired by the  word prompt “FORTITUDE” at

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Cacophony

Many crows in a dark tree at New Orleans Squar...

black swirling crow cloud
discordant screaming murder
cawing for darkness

Inspired by the  word prompt “CACOPHONY” at

Origami

after you left me
i folded your love letters
into tiny swans

for months they watched me
whispering your written words
from inside their wings

in the spring sunshine
i took them to the river
and gave them freedom.

***************************

How to Make my Heart

Fold in half
corner to corner
then again

fold inside
top to the middle
bottoms up

now from right
alongside the crease
next the left

over it goes
smoothing down the points
into shape

flip gently
you now hold my heart
in your hands

Inspired by the  word prompt “ORIGAMI” at

Torn Asunder

What God has joined together let no man put asunder
traditional Christian marriage ceremony

Nothing lasts forever – yet there I was nearly 13 years ago promising eternity to the woman beside me.  In all fairness I do need to clearly and openly state she is a lovely human being. And at the moment in time and space I had no reason not to pledge myself to be forever united with her – or at least until death did us part. Who knew that we would part before death even hinted closure on either of us?

We had already been living together for 5 years when we decided to make it official and seal it with wedding vows. A small ceremony of joy and on to happy ever after.

It is over now. Torn asunder. We are now divorced after a long tedious legal journey that by official records began October 4th, 2009. At least we made some lawyers happy and financially better off. Really it all started unravelling before that date – but the legal system does like precise facts and figures. October 4th is just the date where I grew tired of the “if you don’t like it divorce me!” challenge whenever we had a difference of opinion. On that date I finally said, “you know what you are correct and here is how we do it…”

Sadly, it wasn’t as simple as I imagined it might be – at least in my version of logical reality. In my simple view of the world we just agreed to split things, agreed to shared custody, and ongoing shared costs. I worked out the math and presented the final numbers. How silly of me. I should have realized that my being a complete idiot would prevent that from happening.

You see, over the many years of us living together, it had become clear to my partner that I was stupid, inept, socially moronic, child-like, incompetent, financially irresponsible, verbally abusive, mentally abusive, lazy, fat, unhygienic, tasteless, unfashionable, and subhuman. If she had not saved me from my pathetic lonely single existence there is no doubt I would have been living as a homeless street bum begging for coins from every passerby. At least that is the story I got to hear over and over again. Parts of that assessment of me may even be true. In my own head, and in my own version, I am better than all of that – but then again we are all the hero of our own biography.

And now that is all done. Completed. Battle-over. Victory declared and the spoils of war divided and allocated. It is an incredible relief. My blood pressure readings have dropped over 20 points since everything has been signed, and transacted. My heart has stopped racing at odd times for no reason.

Now what? I actually feel empty right now. The years of battling and constant bickering preoccupied and consumed an obsessively ridiculous amount of energy and life force. After being in a heightened state of adrenaline and worry for so long I now feel deflated. I am nullified. I think I am depressed.

Perhaps I should look for another relationship? Or should I? It isn’t like I haven’t been open to the possibility of the last few years. I have even had some dates with women who have read my blog and thought I was some wild passionate artistic type. We go out and they realize I am just a boring, fat, old man who has a rich inner fantasy life, and a mundane real world. Reality sucks that way.

The problem is simply that I have no charm. Charisma is an innate quality that cannot be cultivated or faked. Or at least not successfully faked for long. I am cautious and quiet by nature. I am thoughtful and observant and steadfast. I see and hear the world around me and create patterns of reflection. And that is just rather bland in the overall exciting “live for the moment” world in which North Americans think they live.

I have been going to social events for singles. One would think my odds would be fairly good since the groups consist mostly of women. At many of the events there are four women for every male in attendance. I have struck up many conversations – and even thought I had sensed a connection with a few of the women – yet over 3 years I have zero dates. That is simply pathetic.

Now I cannot say that I have had no offers – a couple of women have boldly asked me out and even offered potential naked intimacy. Yet, I have absolutely no romantic interest in those wonderful ladies.  It seems I have mismatched chemistry at play! It is like some farcical Shakespearean romantic comedy – one where I play the role of Falstaff. The common man as buffoon.  I desire what I desire – and in turn I do not desire what is offered. Well actually there was one offer I did want to enjoy and accept – only it was a “one time only never to be repeated” offer. A nibble that would have left me longing.

Perhaps I should just accept that any love is good love and take what I can get. Enjoy what is now – and let tomorrow look after its own needs. Yet somehow that doesn’t feel right. I guess I am not enough of a hedonist to pursue flesh for the sake of flesh. My reluctance to compromise when I am of limited appeal means I will remain a celibate hermit in the wilderness.

I guess that would be all just fine and dandy if I did not have a crush. Yes I know pathetic. She clearly has no interest in me by any stretch of the imagination – and believe me my imagination is very stretchable! I have asked her out for coffee at work – and she has always declined. It is clear I do nothing for her – and yet I find her walking across me thoughts in the oddest moments. Ahhh – what a sad complex world we humans weave!

So there we are – the sad pathos of my imaginary romance! I guess I will just have to set myself up as a sugar-daddy to a struggling visual artist who needs studio space and someone to pay her bills. In return she can paint me vibrant paintings and escort me to art-show openings where we can discuss the merits of post-modernism.

At least I can dream.

Gem Stones

cold crystals rest
on my window sill
bending sunlight
showering brilliant
sparks of spring light
into dazzling prismatic
splatter across my white walls
marching rainbow patterns
flickering across my ceiling
untouchable sparkles
driving my cat mad

holding me mesmerized
beyond the dark reality
of what is here and now

 

Breeze

spring’s warm breath
sends winter away -
let’s go play!

summer breeze
cool breath on hot skin -
no worries!

autumn gust
strips golden trees bare -
easily

winter blast
hides the to-do list -
smoothly done.

Inspired by the  word prompt “BREEZE” at

Hazards

danger danger up ahead
caution warning flashing red
those curves they move way to fast
can’t just let them slide right past
gotta ride them round the bend
worry later if we’ll mend
speeding sliding over ground
skip the brakes and wheel around

faster faster here we go
no time now to take it slow
climbing up through every gear
open up and let go fear
now we’re moving straight ahead
hope I haven’t been misled
feel that sudden power surge
ease on in and start to merge

revving revving full on thrust
giving in to all this lust
shifting down from mountain pass
slipping into valley grass
pistons pounding out a beat
as we’re blasting down this street
feel that tingle down below
thrumming engine primed to blow

danger danger up ahead
caution warning flashing red
those curves they move way to fast
can’t just let them slide right past

  • Back To You (echoessilencepatienceandgrace.wordpress.com)
  • Transported (helpfulannalisa.wordpress.com)
  • Guide (blackinkbirds.wordpress.com)

Stranded

stuck here in the middle
far from shore
blue sky
blue water
blue thoughts
wind-tossed
sand-strewn
in solitude

how did I get so far
from where I wanted to be?

Shimmer

spring shimmer
heats to slow simmer
boils over

bursts into
dazzling bright colours
all aglow.

Inspired by the  word prompt “SHIMMER” at

Count Down: 26 Days Left

March 18, 2012 is when I began my “Post-a-Day” commitment – and it feels like it was more than 339 days  ago! 

Here we are in the final stretch of daily thinking and writing. The daily obsession with looking for topics to add to my collection of stewing ideas. I have no idea how daily newspaper columns writers keep up the pace! At least here I could kick back and write a haiku when I felt really under pressure to post! I can’t imagine having to write 500 words each day on some relevant topic of the moment. And make it interesting!

At least a columnist has an editor and a publisher behind him/her to review the topic and the writing. That has been the hardest part for me – writing is easy! Editing is hard – or rather self-editing is hard. I know the old adage “don’t worry about cutting words – they don’t bleed”. Still they are my words and sometimes I write excellent non sequiturs that deserve to be shared and read by others. Sure it is off topic and irrelevant to my current posting – but oh the excellence of prose!

I do save those snippets to an on going desktop clippings file for later re-use. And sometimes they become the keystone of another post – or even the basis for a poem.

I get my best ideas not while in front of a computer typing – or even just quietly sitting and thinking with notepad in hand. In fact blank white space actually seems to shutdown my brain. Perhaps it is the zen-like vast whiteness that lulls me into being one with nothing. But put me in a situation where I cannot write down my words and the poetry and prose just starts to flow like the amazon. Vast gushes of creative prose and delightful rhymes that the world has never imagined. 

Sometimes I manage to quickly jot down the bare-bones of the flowing creativity before I am pulled back to the task at hand. Sometimes I remember my phone can record my voice and capture barely audible streams of gibberish to remind me of the delightful turn of phrase I had imagined while otherwise occupied. 

Writing when it flows is like someone  else inhabits my mind and body. I am not writing – rather the words flow through me from my heart and soul straight out my fingertips. I wonder if I had a marker taped to my hands at night if I would write poetry across my bed and body in my sleep? What wonders – or darkness – might slip by the censors of my rational brain? 

What inspires me in much of my writing is public radio and random internet browsing. Being Canadian I often have CBC Radio One droning away while I do other things. The words and thoughts of the various CBC radio personalities as they interview their guests sparks little connections in my own brain. Random phrases that may mean one thing in a given context get turned over in mine creating whole lightning chains of sparks – so that the original words are twisted and lost and something new appears.

That is how I have made it through the Post-a-Day journey. Random sparks from brilliant voices on the radio. How do you get inspired to write? What do you do to get yourself blogging? 

 

How to Tell if You Live in Poverty.

I have been hearing the economic whinging of others in the last few months. Maybe even a few years. Mostly the complaints are the tragedy of ‘un-met wants’ and not having the latest greatest iWhatEver device that has just been released to replace iWhatEver PG (where PG=Previous Generation).

Yes poverty is real. It is horrible. To be truly poor is to have nothing – not even self-respect or dignity. The people I hear whinging about “I am so poor…” or “I have no money…” are not even close to being economically in poverty. They may, however, be suffering from mental and spiritual poverty.  Really I probably am not the one to give advice on that aspect of personal poverty!

Here are some things to help you decide if you are truly among the economically disadvantaged:

1) Shelter. You have a roof over your head and it keeps you warm, healthy and dry. Shelter is one of the first basics. If you have a home, and you are not in daily danger of losing your home, you likely are not living in poverty. Home is your space and your air to breath.

2) Fire. Well we call that heat and electricity now. If your home has basic utilities and you can afford at least enough to keep your house warm enough to live, and have some means to cook a meal without endangering your life and health you are not living in poverty. Candles do not count as a heat or cooking source.

3) Water. Your plumbing works – or at least you have clean fresh water to drink and cook And enough to even wash. And a place to deposit your waste. Water is the key to life and without a reliable clean source you are living in poverty.

4) Food. Access to basic foods. Apples, bread, beans and green leafy vegetables for a start. If can buy seasonings, condiments, you likely are not poor. If you can afford meat for every meal you are not poor. Unhealthy perhaps – from all that high-level factory-raised protein in your diet – but not poor!

5) Toilet paper. If you can afford toilet paper and not have to steal it from public washrooms you are likely not living in poverty. If you can also afford commercial bathroom and household cleaners you are likely not living in poverty. Pssst vinegar and salt make excellent cleaners.

6) Soap. If you don’t have to use dish soap as your shampoo and body-wash then you are not living in poverty. Mmmm Palmolive – you know you are soaking in it.

7) Boxes of things. If you have to pack boxes to move you are not living in poverty. Think about it: If you own that many things can you claim to be in poverty? The more boxes you have to pack and move the less in poverty you are. If you have to sell it all just to buy a package of Mr. Noodles to have dinner – then you can tell me you are poor.

8) You can’t afford to wall mount your 50 inch HDTV on the wall. Wait – if you have a TV of any kind you are not poor.

**************************

Now I know some people are going to read my list of eight test items and say “BUT BUT”. Yeah I know – you can still be living marginally if you have all of the above. However, if you have a choice in how you allocate your spending then you are not poor. To be in poverty means every penny (when we had pennies in Canada) is allocated to keeping you and your dependents alive. To have choice in spending is not a matter of poverty – that is an issue of affordability. IF someone has to spend all their money on shelter – and there is no less affordable shelter – that is poverty.

A true test of poverty is this: If you can choose to wait for something to go and sale and then buy extra you are not poor. The best test of poverty is having the economic freedom to make choices not out of necessity but out of preference. If I need to buy a jar of peanut butter to feed my kids I will pay whatever price is required to get the least amount of peanut butter I can afford. BUT if I can choose to wait for the best price for the largest amount then I am not poor at all. Not by a long shot. That doesn’t mean I am rich – just that I am not poor.

Poverty takes away freedom, takes away choice, and most of all takes away the dignity of those that live in real poverty. Poverty makes people into economic slaves forced to do whatever is available and accept whatever is given simply to survive into tomorrow.

Poverty is the greatest obstacle to democracy, and the most effective tool of oppression. What are you going to do about it?

Sugar

powdered sugar dusting

winter morning brings
lingering sweet dusting traced
from your lips on mine.

Inspired by the  word prompt “SUGAR” at

Sullen Lips

Permafrown

she stands in silence
winter playing in her hair
like I don’t matter

her sullen lips show
the depth of the disquiet
cutting through her soul

she should be screaming
instead she holds it all in
danger in her eyes

long ago I learned
it’s better to walk away
then to wait for hell.

Frost on Twigs

Hoar frost or soft rime on a cold winter day i...

black shrouded white
pure frost tipped
gleaming sparks
sunrise kissed
glinting glistening
silver flashes of ice
catching sol
inspiring soul
with fairy tales
and magic dreams
from youthful days
before time’s march
etched her frost
on me.

Red

******

there is poetry
embedded within colour
red sets me on fire

******

when the world is white
under cold winter blankets
red evokes spring hopes.

Inspired by the  word prompt “RED” at

Completion

This dance of you and I
moves slowly in circles
familiar and contemptuous
spilling over in heated
moments of angry distrust
tumbling down into burning
moments of hungry lust
the tempo of passion
keeping our hearts racing
eyes gleaming
skin tingling
thoughts tangled

Even in moments of spite
when you dislike me
and I dislike you
the thought of you naked
strips me naked too.

Monday Again

Wow. Monday here once more in my living room. Happens to me every week yet it still surprises me when it arrives. Monday morning all dark and gloomy beeping at me from the shadows.

Whumph.

Way to knock the wind out of me. Deflate me. Knock me a down and walk all over me. Do I actually have to get out of bed and think? The getting out of bed I can do as there is coffee making pleasant gurgling and sighing noises at me as it drips from the coffee maker.

The floor is cold. The air is cold. The room is dark. My bed is warm and cozy and hugging me. Can I call work and say that I cannot come in for any of those reasons? Likely not. Unless I want to never go to work. Oh. OH. That is so tempting but hard on the bank balance. Sigh. Up and at ‘em!

Next week I think I am skipping Monday and going straight from Sunday to Tuesday. I am sure that will make things much much better. And then only four more days to the weekend. Oh I do like that four days of work and two days of play. That sounds much more balanced than the current five and two. And a six-day week would work so much better with a 365 day year. We could have 12 months each having five six-day weeks for an even 60 weeks in the year plus a five-day end of year party week. That is my big selling point – end-of-year party week!

This seven-day week thing is so old school and unwieldy. Time for a change! Now if I could only convince the rest of the world!

Bitter Almond

I should really have know better
from that sweet scent of bitter
almonds wafting from your skin
yet you’re irresistible
totally wholly undeniable
tantalizing on the tongue
a single tiny nibble
not enough at all
calling me back yet again
and again for another go
another mouthful
taken inside
savored slowly
killing slowly
with the essence
from your soul
bitter almonds
bitter throughout

Pride

English: a warning sign warning of a lack of w...

regal stride
nose towards the sky
strutting by

ignoring
all the warning signs
straight ahead

sure showed me
how gravity works
all the time.

Inspired by the  word prompt “PRIDE” at

Midden Heap of Thoughts

These words languish
alone on the page
unread
unvoiced
unrhymed
hollowed out
devoid of meaning

if a poem is posted
and there is no one
near by to read it
does it can it mean
anything at all?

Listen to the wind
it whispers poems
no-one will ever read.

Deep Quotes for the Blues

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

Steve Jobs

Talent is nothing but a prolonged period of attention and shortened period of mental assimilation.

Konstantin Stanislavsky 

The time is now, the place is here. Stay in the present. You can do nothing to change the past, and the future will never come exactly as you plan or hope for.

Dan Millman

Weary Stopping

This time of year drains me.
Frozen then suddenly thawed. Rushing to get done what needs doing now. Planning for the summer. Booking camps, cottages, summer get a-ways to sandy spaces and empty places.

Heavy boots clomping on my feet – weighing me down as I trudge up stairs, down store aisles, along slushy sidewalks. Gravity is still functioning all too well. Especially when I slip on dark unexpected icy patches.

Night still comes much too soon leaving me in the dark when I would stand outside to catch my breath. Stars are lovely and so is the moon – unfortunately the constant clouds make that just wishful thinking. I don’t mind the dark as much when the world is snow-shrouded and reflective. This mid-winter thaw has taken away the snow and any hint of light. It is darkness and fog tonight.

Dinner done. Laundry done. Dishes done. Every day is a constant list of to-do and done. Time for some port and a book and the gas fireplace. Time to just let the day unwind and fade away into snippets and moments to be digested in dreaming later. Much later. There are still things that need doing.

My little cat thinks it strange that I have paused here on my couch so early in the evening. Between the chores and the laser pointer playing on this dark January evening. He gives his toy mouse a shake to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound is the gentle clack of my keyboard as I type. This couch is lovely, dark and deep but I have chores to do and hours to go before I sleep. And hours to go before I sleep.

Musing

“This river I stand in is not the river I stepped in.”

The world around me moves in one direction – always westward towards tomorrow. What was ever fades, degrades, dissolves. Sunrise, sunset. This air I breathe has passed through billions of moments, plants, insects, bodies. Breathed in, processed, metabolized, exhaled, exuded, reprocessed.

This place I sit unmoving – is moving itself around sun and across the universe. I am at rest in motion. This water I drink has been consumed countless times, touched countless lips, passed through uncounted orifices and pores. Drifted over every continent, flowed in rivers long forgotten.

And what of this food? Grow in dirt formed from space dust – containing atoms blasted from the death of stars. Each particle, mineral, every nutrient being a recycled bit of another living thing long dead and forgotten. Soil nurtured by composted wastes of rotten fruit and the detritus of the living past.

Every thing that sustains me now – once sustained another living thing. How can I own anything when it has all been borrowed from the yesterday world that was here before I was even a possibility?

Immediate

Got have it
bring it on
why wait when
here is now
no denial
no restraint
no tomorrow
just can’t wait
bring it to me
give it to me
forget the cost
charge it all
such orgasmic
full consumption
consummation
gives me chills
don’t look back
don’t hold back
get it get it
while you can!

Untouched

Femme

Here I am on the sideline
watching you dance so divine
waiting for stars to align
hoping you’ll show me a sign

We arrive here together
and then you’re off wherever
doing this that whatever
taking your sweet pleasure

so tell me this:
Does it hurt less
to be heart less?
Does it feel nice
to be made of ice?

yeah I know you’ve made it clear
got your message don’t you fear
even without your cold sneer
as you turn and disappear

well isn’t that just funny
how when you need my money
you come back coy and sunny
snuggling up my sweet honey.

so tell me this:
Does it hurt less
to be heart less?
Does it feel nice
to be made of ice?

I should really go away
who just knows one day I may
your hypnotic charms hold sway
desperately I obey

I should be out there dancing
doing my own romancing
instead I sit here just crashing
as you’re out there just laughing

so tell me this:
Does it hurt less
to be heart less?
Does it feel nice
to be made of ice?

Rescue Haiku

S-O-S
you feel my distress
beating time

take my hand
guide me to safety
i am lost

going down
water rushing in
please save me.

Inspired by the  word prompt “RESCUE” at

Seething

IMG_0408

seething
seeding sorrow
seeking solace
seething some more
seeming shallow
seeping shame
seething still

stomping

spewing

silence

Cold Snap

chattering white cold
slaps hard leaving bright red cheeks
on every grey face.

Camera Obscura

 

Camera obscura

I only see what you want me to see
locked in darkness of these walls
you poke holes in random places
allowing pricks of bright light
to leak into my sealed world
showing me an inverted outside
where buildings point downward
into the flowing blue sky below
or is it my world that is reversed?

And when I think I understand
you seal over the holes again
taking away my light and visions
leaving me to scrabble in obscurity
meaningless words on the dusty floor
as I listen for your next jab
thrusting deep past my walls
creating a new glimmering illusion
dancing shadows and revelations
beyond my understanding and hope.

Half Hearted

This golden ring is meaningless on its own
This king-size bed is empty without a queen
This table for two is simply over-sized
This bottle of wine is meant to be shared

Flying solo sure is fast
gets ya where your going
I’d rather take my time
make a memory on the way
living is just a half-life
when you’re only half-hearted

Thought I’d find happiness never sharing
Thought I’d find freedom by never caring
Thought living fast would make time go past
Thought there would be no time for sorrow

Flying solo sure is fast
gets ya where your going
I’d rather take my time
make a memory on the way
living is just a half-life
when you’re only half-hearted

 

Slipstream

IMG_0576

I feel you move by me
stirring the warm air
perfume eddies wafting
pulling me in your wake
towards our destination
languid afternoon fluidity
of merging liquid duality
smooth drafting motion
inducing rising pressure
of us slow slipstreaming
chemical thermodynamics
up these wooden stairs
slipstreaming under covers
slipstreaming skin friction
into bodies nestled
softly at rest.

Dusk

light slips from the sky
inviting stars to hear prayers
sent from hearts below

on this winter night
smokefall robbing our eye light
sweet touch remains us

twilight’s last gleaming
twitches and fades from above
leaving us to dream

 

Inspired by the  word prompt “DUSK” at

Garden Salad

All day I have been hungry
craving these fresh delights
now spread out before me
such delightful goodness
where to even begin?

these delicate leaves
freshly chosen plucked
dripping with moisture
ripe plump tomatoes
firm, sweet, exploding
with warm tart juices
waiting to meld with
long carrots fresh
firm fleshy root
little garlic bud
popping with flavour
combined with spices
marinating all day
in homemade dressing
full of expectation
hungry anticipation

With all this to enjoy
I think I’d rather
linger here with you
and just nibble slowly
until we are satiated
which may take all night…

The Rules of Touching

Let us be clear to start
it is forbidden between
strangers just like us
to even consider this
as possible reality
yet the gentle curve
of your graceful neck
makes me think about
reaching across space
letting my fingers glide
slide down scented skin
feel your pulse beating
so near the warm surface

Let us be clear to start
I wouldn’t even dare
unless you dared first
to look in my direction
where our smiles would
break down these barriers
shout out our secret names
breaking down all rules
between strangers as we
moved to acquaintances
fast-forward into friendship
tumbling into shy lovers
discovering the next set
in the rules of touching
each other in unexpected ways
cascading shivers down
into unexpected places.

Let us be clear to start
and go from there into
wherever we are destined…

Cocoa Cookies

The delight behind the previous post – and please feel free to copy this one! Recipes are never copyrighted as far as I am concerned!

Ingredients
1-cup all-purpose flour
1/2-cup cocoa powder
1/2-teaspoon baking soda
1/2-cup packed brown sugar
1/2-cup white sugar (I use all brown sugar cause I like the brown sugar flavour)
1-cup salted butter(at room temperature)
1 large egg
1-teaspoon pure vanilla extract
icing sugar – optional

How to make:
Sift and set aside all the dry ingredients (flour, cocoa powder, baking soda)
Using a mixer on medium speed beat the butter and sugar in a bowl until creamed.
Add egg, and then beat until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes)
Mix in vanilla until just combined
Now gradually spoon in the dry ingredients with the mixer on low speed.
Cover bowl and place in refrigerator to chill until dough is firm (at least 1 hour)

Let the oven preheat to 350 degrees, and line some baking sheets with parchment paper.
Using clean dry hands roll the dough into small balls (about 1″ in size)
Space about 1 1/2 inches apart on the baking sheets.
Bake for 8 minutes or until cookies seem firm.
Using a small sieve lightly dust the tops of the cookies with icing sugar.
Allow to cool on baking sheet for few minutes before removing from sheets.

Remember to replace the parchment sheet if you need to re-use the baking sheet for another batch – otherwise the icing sugar may give the next patch a slight burnt flavour!

Broken Eggs

Broken Egg

soft white tones
soothing browns
perfectly shaped
spheres nestled
anticipating
spicy creations
sweet sugar burst
creamy butter
wholesome flour
rich dark cocoa
so peacefully
waiting for
melding

then a crack
whack smack
pulled apart
smashed crunched
carefully beaten
whisked stirred
binding together
bakers delight
all for one
one for all
caressing my
taste-buds

Broken eggs
are required
to unleash
true delight.

Fully Completed

You make me joyous you do
turning me twirling me whirling me
reducing releasing rejoicing
now there is no holding back

here I am inside outside myself
here I am upside downside unshelved
stripped of all pretense
embracing human imperative
feeling you burning churning
inside each breath beat burst
melding welding our cells
this instance contains infinity
blessed blessings of eternity
a genesis newly recreated
resurrected released

we impelled compelled
willingly overwhelmed
us singlely co-mingling
into unified unity enjoined

You leave me smiling you do

Angels Dancing on Sunbeams

Sun Beam

Do you remember?
How we lay still
in morning light
sunlight kissing
our naked bodies?

Do you remember?
How we lay watching
winking dust floating
carefree in sunshine
over top our smiles?

Do you remember?
How you turned to me
saying it isn’t dust
those are celestial
beings sparked by love?

Do you remember?
Me at all anymore
when you see morning
light through your
bedroom window graced
with dancing angels?

I remember too vividly
as they mock me each
and every sunny morning
smirking at my naivety
for believing in eternity.

Unusual Foods: Cock Flavoured Soup

The other day I was shopping at my local grocery store in the “International Foods” section of the store and I browsed past this food item. Later I looked it up on the internet and I love the description of the item:

“A spicy, chicken-flavoured soup mix, Grace Cock Soup Mix is quick to prepare and extremely versatile. Try thus piping hot soup as a between-meal snack or an appetizer – or as a base to add a spicy kick to your favourite soup recipes.

I kid you not...cock being a male chicken commonly called a rooster

I kid you not…cock being a male chicken commonly called a rooster

I am part of a weekend soup exchange – perhaps I should spice things up with a little Grace Cock Soup Mix. When people ask I can say – “well I started with a Cock Soup Mix base and added some spice to my recipe…no really it tastes like chicken!”

Oh the things that amuse me…

Only 77 Days Remaining…make a request!

It all began April 1st, 2012. A challenge to myself to write at least one blog post per day. And here I am 77 days away from that goal.

It has been easier than I thought it would be to post something each day. And harder to write something worthwhile on each day. Finding inspiration is actually fairly challenging. There are days when I scrap the bottom of the posting barrel and post some really and truly awful crap!

And other days the words just flow and I think – wow where the hell did they come from? Cause that cannot be my words and my writing and my thoughts organized in a coherent and readable format. No way.

Yet it is. Unbelievable-  as it is to me.

So here is my request to you my faithful blog readers – inspire me! Give me some suggestions. Tell me what you’d like to read, give me prompts, give me formats. Ask for an encore on something else I wrote. Command me!

Anything at all – fact, fiction, essay, poetry, snippet, snappet, cabbage or string. Or even a sonnet about some silly king! Here is your chance to be leap from the audience and be part of the choir. Ask for anything that you might desire.

Only 77 more days – and then perhaps I will write no more.

 

Death

fluttering spring bird
bumped my winter window
too late to fly south

Christmas tree needles
mysteriously appear
the tree long removed.

From birth our springs wound
the clockwork of life winds down -
the rewind key lost.

Inspired by the  word prompt “DEATH” at

Script

I practiced daily
through long dark winter evenings
waiting to woo you

and in that moment
perfect words held on my tongue -
I became speechless

You smiling drew near
needing no words of your own
and simply kissed me.

 

Inspired by the  word prompt “SCRIPT” at

New

The end of one thing
is the seed of tomorrow
forever renewed.

Each new day starts with
stars brushed from the morning sky
by yesterday’s sun.

I hope to be kissed
when the calendar changes
and brings me new hope.

Inspired by the  word prompt “NEW” at

Snow Joy

Thanks to Susan for the bonus inspiration

swirling falling snow
forces our tongues to flick out
and taste mother sky.

Inspired by Susan’s post  the  word prompt “SNOW” from